


The Last Day On Earth

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A more detailed look at James's affairs with the Hamiltons for those of you who want more. I was so curious to know what would have happened right after that kiss! (Not straight up smut, sorry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Day On Earth

The Last Day on Earth  
A Black Sails tie-in

James wasn’t sure at what point he realized he was kissing his best friend.  
The fact that it was happening and left him breathless were all that registered in his mind.  
Thomas’s tongue gently scraped his teeth, his hand caressing the soft skin on the side of James’s neck. The lieutenant became lost in the contact the instant he’d given Thomas consent, had bent his head ever so slightly to allow his friend’s lips to touch his own.  
Now as the kiss lingered James finally had the wherewithal to pull back, breaking their embrace. All of this, he realized with a start, taking place in front of Thomas’s wife. James glanced over to Miranda as the color rose to his cheek, yet Lady Hamilton hardly appeared surprised, let alone shocked.  
It was Thomas who spoke first.   
“I’m sorry,” was all he managed, his soft voice even softer. Soft and perhaps insincere, James thought.  
“Well perhaps I should retire for the evening,” said Miranda, dabbing at her mouth with a dinner napkin and rising as though something earth-shattering in their collective relationship had not just occurred. She looked to Thomas, who nodded at her. James didn’t recognize the look they gave one another. He felt his anxiety rising, felt like he had done wrong toward her.   
“Miranda…”  
He moved to follow her, to apologize. Thomas raised a hand in front of him, gently getting him to stop. Miranda didn’t look back as she left the dining room and headed off towards her bed chamber.  
“She’ll be all right,” Thomas said, looking after her briefly before turning back to James. James tried not to look completely aghast.  
“I hardly think so,” he said. “I don’t even know if I’m all right. I don’t know what’s going on.”  
He steadied himself with his fists on the table top, leaning into it and staring down at the plate of food he’d barely touched all evening. The heated discussion with Thomas’s father, Earl Alfred Hamilton, had caused him to lose his appetite.  
“Jesus,” he said, realizing an entirely different situation had just exploded before Thomas had kissed him. He had, after all, kicked the earl out of his own house. He felt short of breath.  
“You father…your father is going to throw a noose around my neck himself.”  
“James, please calm down, I beg you,” said Thomas. He laid a hand on the lieutenant’s arm to reassure him. When James met his gaze again everything fell away once more. He should have looked away but he couldn’t. Thomas’s vivid blue eyes bore into his grayish-green ones, still filled with tenderness.  
“What are you doing to me?” James asked. It came out in a breathless whisper. He forced himself to turn away and make for the door. Thomas stopped him before he could leave.  
“Please come by tomorrow. We must talk about this, about everything. You’ve not done anything wrong, I promise you.”  
Thomas’s words were earnest. James had come to trust his words, to believe in that intensity. He believed them now, though there was every reason to the contrary screaming in his face not to. And then he was kissing Thomas again, his own lips moving rigorously over the blonde’s, tongue forcing itself inside his mouth. He felt butterflies in his stomach. He pulled away. Thomas looked at him with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.   
“Miranda will be out for lunch with friends tomorrow after three. Come by then.”  
He had his hand on the side of the lieutenant’s neck again, thumb rubbing James’s chiseled jaw line. James pulled Thomas’s palm to his lips and kissed it.  
“All right,” he agreed.

______________________________________________________ 

 

The ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the Hamilton household as Thomas closed the door to his study, effectively cutting off its sound as well. He and James sat down as they had countless times in the past, with Thomas behind his desk and James in front of it. Thomas merely gazed at him, index finger hiding his mouth as he rubbed it back and forth thoughtfully. The silence wasn’t awkward yet it quickly became deafening to James all the same. He let out a nervous laugh.  
“I don’t know what to say,” he said at last. “What should I say? I know I didn’t get a single hour’s sleep in last night, that my mind is spinning in all directions at once. Should I tell you that what happened in your dining room last night was wrong, that it was a mistake, borne out of a combination of anger at your father and gratitude towards me for standing up to him? Should I try to convince you that’s the truth?”  
A tiny smile graced the blonde’s lips as he let his hand drop down to the desk top.  
“That you would even ask that last question indicates you don’t believe it. I know you don’t, because it is not the truth.”  
With a huff James shoved back his chair and stood. He felt restless, frustrated, confused.  
“Well what then?”  
Thomas sighed and stood as well, leaning over the desk. His blue eyes caught James’s and held them.  
“What do you feel, you fool?” he asked softly.  
The charade they had started came to an abrupt end with the question. A thousand feelings had coursed through the lieutenant since the events of last night. It was hard for him to drop his guard, to lose his propensity for propriety, as it were, even with Thomas. He studied the floor for a long moment before walking over to the edge of Thomas’s desk and looking up. This time his gaze was soft. He licked his lips before speaking.  
“When I first laid eyes on you that day, you appraised me before we ever greeted one another. You were bold; you didn’t try to hide it. I knew then that you were strong willed, that I would have to be good at whatever job it was you required of me. Then I thought your rash proposal about the pirates in Nassau. I couldn’t understand why you would want to work with someone like me, someone so critical of your plans. When I came to see the brilliance of it, the brilliance of you, I realized that of all of your kind of noblemen I had encountered, you had the most beautiful mind of all of them.”  
James stopped. Thomas was smiling at him without smiling, head cocked at an angle.  
“So…you like me for my mind, my ideals. Is that it?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. But James was completely sincere when he replied.  
“I first liked you for your mind,” he corrected. “Since then…well, I can’t put into words the way I feel about you now.”  
The gravity of the statement seemed to overpower the very air of the room they stood in. James let out another nervous laugh.   
“I didn’t mean it to sound so overwhelming—“  
Thomas halted him with a raised finger, smile spreading across his face. “It’s all right. I think I understand. I’m glad.”  
James turned from the edge of the desk, taking his seat again. Increasing distance between them seemed to ease his anxiety— and Thomas’s as well— if they were to have a productive conversation. Indeed, the blonde’s very presence had shifted James’s conception of the space around him since last night. Simply put, he couldn’t think straight standing so close to the other man.  
“What about Miranda?” James asked. “I know she was upset. I know at least part of that was directed at me.”  
“Last night, yes, that’s true,” replied Thomas, also taking a seat. “This morn she had come to grips with it. James, you know Miranda and I have had a very…open relationship for some time.”  
James gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t need the details, Thomas…”  
“Yes, you do.”  
James looked at him, confused.   
“You’ve thought this whole time that I am the only one to give my tacit approval of her affairs with other men, including yourself.”  
Now it was James’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Oh.”  
The meaning behind the blonde’s words dawned on him as he spoke the word. It all made sense now, why Lady Hamilton hadn’t been the least surprised when Thomas had kissed him, how she had been able to excuse herself so expertly from their presence without a single crack showing in her façade. That brought James to his next question, which he asked urgently.  
“Then you must tell me, has this ever happened before?”  
Thomas replied at length. “This particular situation? No. I allow her her men because I love her, and she has allowed me mine for the same reason. We’ve never had…a conflict of interest before.”  
Thomas’s gaze had wondered down his desk, where he was studying the pieces of parchment laid out before him intensely as he became lost in thought. James waited patiently, watching him. He felt he needed to tell Thomas his own feelings about Lady Hamilton. He leaned forward, taking a deep breath. Thomas blinked himself out of his reverie and looked at James.  
“I care about Lady Hamilton,” he said. It wasn’t so much as a well thought-out statement as it was something that came stumbling and rolling over his tongue like an avalanche. He realized this direction in their conversation was making him nervous.  
“I care enough about her not to hurt her,” he continued. “If we go down this road, I’m afraid that is surely what will happen.”  
For once Thomas had no immediate response to his inquiries, as though this was one item James had surprised him with for which he had not thought about. He leaned back in his chair with a soft thump as his back hit against it, as though he was defeated.  
“What are you saying?”  
“I don’t know,” said James. “Only that I must speak the truth in this regard. Whatever is between us, I will not do damage to your wife, sir.”  
The lieutenant’s return to the formal only drove home his seriousness to Thomas, who nodded.  
“Nor do I want you to. I think it best to discuss this with Miranda.”  
James nodded, then looked back up at Thomas, eyes narrowing.  
“Wait a moment. You mean you want me to discuss this with Miranda?”  
“Of course. If you truly care for her as you say—and I’m certain you do—then you must broach the subject with her. You know how straightforward she is. It’s the honest thing to do. And, more importantly, she’ll care what you think.”  
That got James to halt his protests. Several times in the past he and Miranda had joked about her lack of caring what other people thought about her, about them. She had no tolerance or concern for gossip and rumors. It was one of the reasons James had fallen for her in the first place. For her to actually care what he thought, well, Thomas was right. He would speak to her.

________________________________________________________

 

They sat in the parlor of the Hamilton house, having tea and biscuits. Miranda spoke briefly of her day when James asked and they chatted lightly for a few minutes—about the dreary London rain and about what was playing at the theatre before Miranda came around to the reason for his visit.  
“I’m not angry with you,” she said. “True, I was surprised that night, but not because of what happened. I was more surprised, I suppose, with your reaction. You’ve proven yourself quite…competent with women, after all.”  
Miranda’s dark hazel eyes met the lieutenant’s evenly. James felt his cheeks flushing. Of course Miranda wouldn’t have thought he was attracted to Thomas after their own affair.   
“Sometimes I surprise myself,” he mused. That earned him a small smile, but James took a breath, growing serious again.  
“Miranda, whatever this is, I told Thomas two days past that I would not do anything to hurt you, no matter what I feel for him. I may not have to say this, but it is not my intention to come between the two of you in any way. The situation with his father and the politics of Nassau are delicate enough as it is without added personal turmoil to the mixture.”  
“Thank you, lieutenant. I appreciate that. But are you saying you do not wish to see me anymore, or him anymore?”  
Her tone became scrutinizing, eyes narrowing. He couldn’t help but grin again.  
“As perceptive as ever,” he said. “Although honestly, I…”  
James trailed off. He had thought about this countless times since his visit with Thomas, about breaking off his relationship with Thomas first, then Miranda instead. He had flip-flopped between the two of them so much that now he considered breaking the whole thing off. It would be, logically, for the best. But so far his logic had failed him around the Hamiltons.  
Now, during his complete indecision, Miranda made a decision of her own. She stood and walked over to him, straddling his legs and kissing him. James kissed her back, feeling passion once again taking over where reason should have been. Damn.  
He kissed her hard, tongue probing inside her mouth. Miranda’s hand moved to his crotch and rubbed it there, giving him an erection in little time. He moaned at the touch and rose, still kissing her as he pulled on the shoulders of her dress until her bare breasts were exposed. She gasped as he all but lifted her up and took her to the bed chamber.   
He made love to her, first as the lay facing each other, then he topped her as his need became greater and greater. Miranda gasped as he thrusted into her, her body slick and just tight enough for him. When it was over they lay side by side for several moments. Then James sat up and looked at her disapprovingly. She was glowing now, her dark hair flowing over the pillows and making her absolutely gorgeous to him. It was hard to stay mad.  
“You did that on purpose,” he said.  
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, though the innocence in her tone was not reflected on her face. She only smiled as she sat up next to him, brushing her hair away from her cheeks. He gently pushed it back for her.  
“I wish you could wear it down all the time,” he mused softly. He kissed her again, then sighed.  
“I suppose there’s only one choice to make then,” he said. Miranda tensed.  
“You’re not going to see him, then?” she asked, uncertain.  
James swung his legs over the bed and pulled on his trousers. “No.”  
He stood and faced her. “I’m going to see both of you. Does that surprise you?”  
The look on her face told him it did, but then she smiled.

________________________________________________________________

 

Sometimes he came over when they were both at home. He and Thomas had their regular meetings in his study, where they would rigorously go over the Nassau plan and the goings on of Thomas’s father. Miranda would interrupt them for lunch occasionally and they would bring her up to speed on their discussions. Afterwards she could sometimes hear them rigorously going over one another in the room, could hear the smallest sounds of furniture being moved roughly, of slight intakes of breath. She would wonder off to speak to the maid during those times, or visit her friends in the West End.  
Sometimes, too, Thomas would be gone and it would just be he and Miranda. James knew Thomas would usually go to dinner parties and political parties when invited, but those were usually in the evenings so when he was alone with her in the afternoons James suspected Thomas was giving them their privacy.  
They would go on outings in the West End and to the park sometimes. James would take them down to the docks on the nicer, sunnier days and begin talking obsessively about sailing and seafaring. He knew they didn’t share his passion for it but they enjoyed his passion about it. No matter where they went, one thing remained the same: Thomas and Miranda walked side by side, arms looped, while he stayed a few steps behind them. There was no other way for the upper class to travel in London.  
As the weeks passed James began to notice a change in their collective behavior. They had become bolder with their discussions during their outings, letting small jokes about the three of them escape their lips from time to time. Often these came about by discussing the comedy plays in London’s theatres. The plays were almost always about love and affairs and were loading with risqué references to sex. Miranda had insisted they all go see The Way of the World together.  
“Do give us your full, detailed summary,” Thomas joked with her as they took their seats in the theatre. Even here they had to consciously arrange themselves. Miranda sat on the left, with Thomas beside her on the right and then James beside him. Miranda frowned at her husband’s goading, while he and James smirked.  
“Well,” she began, shuffling in her seat and holding her head up high for effect, “The play is based around the two lovers, Mirabell and Millamant. In order for the two to get married and receive Millamant's full dowry, Mirabell must receive the blessing of Millamant's aunt, Lady Wishfort. Unfortunately, she is a very bitter lady, who despises Mirabell and wants her own nephew, Sir Wilfull, to wed Millamant. Another character, Fainall, is having a secret affair with Mrs. Marwood, a friend of Mrs. Fainall's, who in turn once had an affair with Mirabell. In the mean time Mirabell's servant is married to Foible, Lady Wishfort's servant. Waitwell pretends to be Sir Rowland and, on Mirabell's command, tries to trick Lady Wishfort into a false engagement…”  
“All right, all right,” said Thomas. “I understand the gist. Please, no more.”  
James laughed as she lightly slapped his arm with her folding fan. He knew very well their discussion of the plays’ content often paralleled their own situation. Now, after the play ended and they sat in the back of their carriage on the way home James took the opportunity to gripe about the play’s views on love.   
“Their marriage arrangement had nothing to do with real love. It was all centered around material gain even though they pretend it’s not.”  
“That’s not true,” Miranda countered. “Remember when Mirabell secretly sacrificed his own savings to buy her the dress? She had already told him it wasn’t necessary.”  
James was leaning forward now as he argued his point. “It meant nothing to him. He already knew he was getting more than enough money from his father for marrying her anyways. Thomas?”  
Both James and Miranda turned to the blonde man.   
“Well I think he became corrupt. I think he loved her at first…”  
“No, no, no,” James cut through his words, but Thomas raised his voice.  
“But then he grew too greedy for his own good and then I agree with you, it was all based on material gain…”  
“You’re both crazy,” said Miranda.  
The discussion eventually dissolved into laughter at one another. James leaned back against the carriage’s cushions, relaxing. Here, in the safety of the carriage’s small, bubble-like space, Thomas moved from his seat next to Miranda and sat beside him. He leaned over and kissed James lightly on the lips before leaning back to look at him. James stared into those hypnotic eyes until he swore they were causing him to have vertigo. The rest of the carriage ride was uneventful, at least by all outside appearances. James, however, felt the hum of sexual tension in the air, felt it thick in the back of his throat and it seemed to grow the longer they were in the small cramped space together. He both enjoyed and worried about it at the same time. Then Miranda asked, right before they arrived home, “Do you remember our first carriage ride together?”  
She looked at him saucily. The color rose on his cheeks. Thomas was right beside him, leg against his leg, shoulder against his. The memory of taking Miranda for the first time (or rather of she taking him) flashed through his mind, and he felt the member between his legs coming to life. Luckily the carriage came to halt a few minutes later and they all disembarked. James breathed in the cold damp night air with relief.

_____________________________________________________

 

The three of them were apart for some time thereafter. Miranda’s aunt had passed away in Derby, prompting her and Thomas to ride the lengthy distance up north. They were expected, of course, to stay after the funeral and socialize so all in all the trip kept them away from London and James for nearly two weeks.  
At first James kept himself busy with his naval duties. Furthermore he and Admiral Hennessy kept company at the tavern several nights a week. They discussed the growing probability of James sailing for Nassau to visit and scrutinize the governor there, hoping that he had been productive with the island’s more legitimate enterprises. Eventually however he felt the Hamiltons’s absence more and more. What bothered him most of all was that he was no longer thinking of them as one. He missed Thomas most of all.  
It was two days after their return that James received the invitation. When the servant answered the door James was already shedding his heavy navy coat and hat and walking through the front corridor and into the living room.  
“Lieutenant,” Thomas greeted him brightly. There were several others in the room as well. James recognized Peter Ashe and a few more of his associates. Miranda came into the room as well, her face brightening when she saw him. Thomas shook his hand first and their eyes locked onto each other. James felt his heart beating in his chest. He greeted Miranda with a bow and a kiss on the hand. He joined the gathering in the living room. It was after four and they were drinking brandy. James joined them, though secretly he was desperate for them all to leave. An hour later he got his wish as they all filed out slowly, bidding Thomas farewell. The servant shut the door behind them with a final click.  
“That is all for today, Cedric,” Thomas told the man, who nodded and took his leave.  
Miranda emerged from the kitchen and immediately kissed James and hugged him close. He grinned at her.  
“The funeral could not have been that dour,” he teased. Miranda shuddered and made a small sound of disagreement. Thomas came to him and kissed him as well, a longer, slower kiss with a hint of sweet brandy on it that made James weak in the knees and knotted his stomach up.  
“I missed you,” he said simply.

______________________________________________________

 

He should have known better, should have seen it coming, especially after that night in the carriage. But James was too happy just to be with them again to give it much thought. Miranda joined them in their drink, having wine instead of brandy. When James asked how the funeral had been she moaned.  
“I’m fairly certain she’s been asked that half a dozen times since we’ve returned,” mused Thomas. James hid his smile.  
“Apologies. I suppose it really is a stupid question, after all.”  
Miranda took a sip of her wine. “I’m just happy to be home. The countryside was beautiful though. Inspiring, I would say.”  
“Indeed,” said Thomas. “Do you ever get to visit the countryside James, or are you always looking out to sea?”  
“It’s been a while but I have been up to Derby and Sheffield. It is quite beautiful. It reminds me of the sea.”  
Thomas cocked his head. “How so?”  
James took a drink of his brandy. “Well consider how peaceful and still both the country and the sea are compared to the city. They are both still wild, still free parts of the world, untamed by man. I’ve always found something…comforting about that.”  
“Mr. McGraw, the poet,” said Miranda, but her tone was not mocking. She was looking at him in earnest, admiring him. Thomas raised his glass.  
“A toast, then. To free parts of the world and to being together again.”  
They toasted there at the dining table. James let himself slide into total comfort, losing his gentlemanly posture after a while and sprawling out on the chair, which he found increasingly uncomfortable. Thomas shared his discomfort and they moved to the divan in the living room. Miranda made fun of them, telling them they were weak since she was the one wearing the corset and still maintained her posture, even with drink. Eventually they all became quite merry. James drank too quickly, he knew, feeling his cheeks flush and head become light. Thomas, however, was the same and eventually Miranda caught up to them as well. At some point they all three sat together on the soft brown and spacious sofa, James in the middle.   
He should have known, should have avoided the situation altogether but he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to.  
Thomas had told a joke about his father that had got James laughing like a lunatic. Even Miranda was having a hard time keeping her composure. Their joint dislike of the earl only added to the gravity of the joke. James laughed until his sides hurt. It felt good. They quieted down. James threw his arms over the back of the sofa and on either side of his friends. He let out a breath.  
“Well I believe I’m drunk,” he said merrily. Thomas raised his glass and finished it in one gulp, setting it down heavily on the table.  
“I concur.”  
They all chuckled and fell silent again. James had closed his eyes, relaxing and trying to regain more of his senses when he felt lips and a tongue on his neck. Miranda was kissing him there, her hands wondering over his chest and down his shirt. He didn’t remember unbuttoning it. He closed his eyes again, hand coming up to her hair, encouraging her. Then another pair of lips caught his own. James started, lifting his head from off the divan. Thomas stopped him from turning away, catching his chin with his fingers. He kissed the lieutenant harder. James moaned, unable to resist. Then Thomas’s hand moved to his crotch, massaging it while Miranda’s hand wondered over his abs, feeling the lines of his seaman’s muscles, her tongue behind his ear. James felt a wave of heat wash over him that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He felt himself growing erect. He heard Thomas make an “umm” sound in response. No. No. This could not happen.  
James forced himself to push them away. He shot up from the sofa, stumbling slightly. His breath came out in gasps.  
“I cannot,” he said. Thomas rose. Miranda sighed, looking away.  
“It’s all right James,” said Thomas. “Nothing has changed.”  
“Everything has changed,” he countered. “We cannot do this.”  
“But you want it,” said Miranda bluntly, her wine apparently making her even more straightforward. James closed his eyes and shook his head.  
“It doesn’t matter. It’s too dangerous.”  
“No one is here,” Thomas said patiently. “Cedric is gone. The maids are gone. It is just you and I and Miranda. Safe as houses.”  
James tried not to look into Thomas’s eyes but failed. They caught him, pulled him in. He said what came to his mind next, unable to filter it because of the brandy.  
“Why do you have to be so damn beautiful?”  
Thomas was kissing him again, this time with a veracity that demanded a response.   
He didn’t remember how or when they all made it into the bedroom, didn’t remember what order who did what; he remembered taking off her corset and kissing her breasts, feeling her up while Thomas kissed him from behind. He remembered Thomas lying down first, beckoning to him. He remembered pushing himself inside Miranda from behind, causing her to moan. He remembered finding a rhythm there, her fingers curling around his thick long hair. He remembered all of this like one sees a watercolor painting, blurry and unfocused. He remembered more vividly, however, Thomas entering inside him, remembered the stiffness of his member as it pushed all the way inside him, then almost all the way out. James’s breath came out in short gasps. As Thomas pumped him harder and harder he knew he was losing focus on Miranda but couldn’t help it. Then he came, hot and fast, pushing himself inside Miranda, wrapping his legs around her. Then everything faded away.  
The feeling of someone pounding a hammer on the back of his head had caused him to wake. It was morning and he was still in the Hamilton’s bed. He blinked in the bright light, eyes adjusting slowly. Thomas was propped up against the head board next to him. He wore only a pair of loose breeches. He was grinning at James.  
“Good morning, sunshine.”  
James groaned, turning towards him and way from the window. He struggled his way out of the sheets and sat up.  
“Where are my—“  
Thomas handed him his officer’s trousers from the floor, still grinning like the devil. James blushed.  
“What happened?”  
“What didn’t happen?” asked Miranda, coming into the bedroom dressed only in a nightgown. James groaned again, rubbing at his temples.  
“You, ah, arrived,” said Thomas, “and then you fell asleep almost immediately afterward.”  
James made a face and sighed. “Oh shit.”  
Miranda chuckled. “Do not fret, darling. Fun was had by all parties, I believe. Here. Drink this.”  
She handed him a cup of tea. By the smell of it he knew it was supposed to help with headaches. He drank it all in a few gulps.   
James stayed in a bed a while longer after Miranda insisted on serving both of them breakfast, though she admitted the kitchen servant girl Sarah had aided in her endeavor. Nevertheless the food was good and James ate heartily. Then he insisted he must leave and be down at the docks for a drill that evening. He did not want to leave the comfort and warmth he had found. He didn’t want to leave the bed either. Reluctantly Thomas let him out of the bed. James finished dressing in peace. He left the Hamilton house feeling ridiculously happy. He had to keep from laughing at himself. Were people supposed to feel this happy? He certainly never had. He’d had other lovers before, certainly, but even during the best times with others he had never felt anything like this. It wasn’t just the sex, he reflected as he climbed in the carriage waiting on him. Not that the sex wasn’t fantastic, he mused, but the deep connection he felt with them was there beforehand. Especially with Thomas. He thought again of that night he’d first kissed Thomas, of how he felt something like a jolt run through his body as Thomas’s face inched ever closer to his own, lips parting ever so slightly. The truth was the connection had been there all along, from the moment Mr. Hamilton had scrutinized him on the streets and James had introduced himself.  
James simply had not known what the feeling was then.  
Now, as he tried to clear his head for the atmosphere and camaraderie of his fellow officers and sailors, Lieutenant McGraw wondered not for the first time how this would all end. He knew it would, inevitably. He did not want to think about such dark, depressing matters, but as a matter of fact he was compelled to. What they were doing was very dangerous, indeed. True, all the gossip about Miranda’s well-known promiscuity would serve as a cover for a time—hopefully indefinitely—but if anyone so much as had an inkling as to the entire truth…  
James blinked away the rest of the thought. He was not prepared to think about that just yet. And why should he? There was no cause for alarm, no reason to think they were not all completely safe. At the moment. He gazed out the carriage’s window to the streets of the city. Everywhere he saw London’s dualities: beauty and ugliness, calm and chaos, light and dark. There was a balance to almost everything, had to be a balance for civilization to function properly. He connected the thought to them. For this long he had maintained the delicate balance of the Hamiltons, had saw them both as lovers he cared equally about, no more and no less. Now, that balance was breaking. As the blurry images of Thomas inside him entered his thoughts James shuddered, the feeling going to his groin. Try as he might, he could not convince himself that he loved Miranda the same.

____________________________________________________

 

Several weeks later they were at Thomas’s dining table, finishing dinner in silence.   
Miranda had been ill with a cold since James had last been to the house. She was sleeping when he’d arrived, leaving only he and Thomas to eat dinner. James was disappointed; he’d wanted to break the news to them both. The longer he thought about what he was going to say the angrier he was with himself, yet if he intended to get to the truth of things he felt he had little choice in how to broach the subject with Thomas.   
“You seem ill at ease,” Thomas commented as he finished his wine. James gingerly sat his fork and knife down and pushed the plate away, fingers lingering on the china’s edge. He looked at Thomas, sea green eyes somber.  
“I need to stop this.”  
Thomas looked at him, brows furrowing. He looked down at the table, masking whatever expression it was that flickered across his face. James felt a pang in his chest.  
“Why?” Thomas finally asked.  
“Because, other than the obvious reasons, I told you that I would not hurt Lady Hamilton. I feel that is exactly what will happen if we continue this.”  
“Oh? And why is that?”  
James had not expected him to—intentionally or otherwise—be so perceptive so quickly.  
“It simply isn’t worth the risk,” he replied.   
“The risk?” Thomas’s eyebrow went up. It was the left eyebrow which meant he was growing irritated. James nodded, rising from the table and walking over to lean on the ledge above the hearth. He heard Thomas rising from the table behind him.  
“This is certainly a different tune for you, lieutenant. Why the change?”  
“Thomas…”  
James stopped himself, collecting his thoughts. He turned and faced the other man. “If this were something else, if it meant something else than just the three of us indulging ourselves then it would be different. But clearly it’s not—“  
“Clearly?” Thomas interrupted, voice rising in anger. “What are you going on about? I told you how I felt the day you agreed to this tryst…”  
“I agreed to no such thing,” said James, feeling his own anger on the rise. “I asked about Miranda’s feelings. I was being cautious…”  
“Cautious? Cautious?” Thomas repeated the word, voice rising in pitch. “Is that what you were? And when Miranda told me that you were to see us both, was that also part of being cautious? I never suggested that you make such a choice…”  
“Oh for Christ’s sake Thomas, that is exactly what you did, even if you didn’t say it!”

Miranda was stirred from her sleep by the muffled sound of angry voices. She awoke and rose from bed, grabbing her nightgown and throwing it on. She recognized Thomas’s voice at first, then realized he was speaking to James. What on earth were they yelling for? Despite feeling rather badly she left the bedroom and walked to the archway of the kitchen, which separated the back part of the house from the front. Through the second archway lay the living room, where the voices were coming from. She was about to barge in, demanding what was going on when the words of their argument became clearer. Thomas was yelling about being cautious, about James telling his decision to Miranda about seeing both of them. James’s heated reply stopped her in her tracks. She leaned against the archway, listening and feeling her chest grow tight as she tried to understand what, exactly, they were arguing about.

Thomas let out a bitter laugh. “So now it’s my fault? Hmm? Is that it? You’re looking to blame someone for your current situation? This situation is a problem for you now, is it?”  
“Thomas…”  
“No, no,” Thomas cut him off. “By all means, lieutenant, tell me about your inconveniences.”  
“You’re twisting my words,” said James, finger jabbing through the air at him. “I blame no one but myself. I told you how I felt that day I supposedly agreed to our situation. And now I realize that, given all the risk involved now, your response was inadequate, sir.”  
James left the hearth, brushing past Thomas and waltzing into the foyer to grab his coat and hat. Thomas followed him, arm held out in a ‘that’s it?’ posture.  
“You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”   
“Just like that!”  
“Fine then. Just fine.” Another bitter smile. “Enjoy the rest of your evening then,” he spat, whirling around and going back into the living room. James paused, lowering his coat and peering around the corner into the living room. Now Thomas was leaning against the hearth ledge, head resting across his arm and away from James. James licked his lips.  
“You would really let me leave?” he shouted across the way. Thomas turned, startled. James slowly walked back into the room.  
“You would let me go, with no further argument?” he asked in a calmer tone.   
The anger had drained from the blonde’s face. He gave James a confused look.  
“I would not presume to stop you, unless you wanted me to.”  
James’s shoulders sagged as he looked away. He stood awkwardly with his coat, unsure. In his delay Thomas seemed to read his mind.  
“This isn’t about risk or Miranda, is it?” he inquired cautiously. James could feel those mesmerizing eyes studying him, trying to figure him out. “You said my response was…inadequate regarding my feelings. You were right.”  
James dared to glance up at him now. Thomas’s usual soft expression had returned. He walked up to James until they stood less than a foot apart.  
“If I were to tell you that I loved you, and that I meant it, would that make it worth the risk?”  
A breath James didn’t know he’d been holding escaped his lips, along with all the anxiety and pent-up emotions he had been holding on to. He automatically moved to kiss Thomas but the other man backed up a step.  
“And you?” he asked.

Miranda now stood behind the archway connecting the kitchen to the living room. She peered out and watched as her husband confessed his love to James. She watched as James put both palms on Thomas’s jaw line, thumb stroking his face. Their eyes locked on to one another and Miranda could barely make out the words James said to him.  
“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else.”  
As Miranda looked at the lieutenant in that moment she was surprised to see a total vulnerability overcome him; his eyes shimmered with tears, his body language subservient to the man before him. It was an expression he had never shared with her, not even during their most passionate encounters, not when he looked into her eyes afterwards. It was as if his entire being was focused on Thomas, lived for Thomas, and in that moment she knew his words rang true.  
Miranda looked away as James closed the space between them and kissed Thomas. She held her chest, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. Tears came to her eyes but she smiled despite herself. She had always known this moment would come, she supposed. James had finally chosen and it had not been her. She knew he did love her, without a doubt. Now she also knew there could be varying degrees of love.  
“As long as we are happy,” she whispered to herself, returning to her bedroom.

James all but dragged Thomas into the guest bedroom, kissing him as fiercely as though it were the last day on earth and dominating him in every move. Thomas let him. They moved to the edge of the bed as James unbuttoned Thomas’s breeches and slid them down his legs. Off came his stockings and shirt. James kissed his thigh, his stomach, and just brushing against his rock-hard erection. Thomas moaned. James glanced up at him, eyes hungry. He rolled his tongue over Thomas’s erection, playing with the tip of his head and then pushing him down on the bed. James undressed himself and splayed over Thomas, knuckles propping him up. Thomas silently begged for his kiss, pulling on the back of his neck. James complied, then covered his neck in kisses as well.  
They both lay on their side when he took Thomas. His trusts were slow and passionate. Thomas pressed himself up against the front of James as much as he could. James responded by wrapping his leg over Thomas’s thigh, his erection brushing against James’s leg as he thrusted into Thomas. James pushed harder and faster, then withdrew. Thomas could have screamed as James left him but it was only temporary. James then took him up against the head board, knees on the bed. Thomas grabbed a hold of its edge as James entered him again, starting slow but quickly becoming rough.  
“Is this all right?” came the ragged whisper in Thomas’s ear. If possible the lieutenant’s voice caused Thomas’s erection to grow even harder. Thomas nodded vehemently and grabbed the back of James’s neck in encouragement. James pounded into him until Thomas was on the brink.  
Through sheer will power James forced himself to slow down as he felt himself getting ready to come. Thomas groaned. “Jesus…”  
James moved in and out in a steady rhythm as he felt his seed shoot into Thomas. He groaned and shuddered all over, teeth gently clamping onto Thomas’s collarbone. An instant later he felt Thomas come, his seed spilling out onto the pillows as he let out a moan.  
They fell on their backs, breathless and covered in perspiration. James curled his face into the crook of Thomas’s neck. They remained like that until their breathing had slowed, neither one of them seemingly able to speak just yet. Then James laid his head on Thomas’s chest. Thomas ran his fingers through James’s long reddish hair.  
“I want to do this forever,” said James, not moving from his position.  
“What?”  
“Listen to your heart beat. Until the day it stops.”  
He felt Thomas smile.  
“I’d love nothing more. But you may not be around for that day.”  
“Then I will enjoy it every day until that day,” he replied. James closed his eyes, not knowing what the future held for them and that Thomas may be right, but in that moment James knew it didn’t matter. He was tired of planning for the future. For now, he had this, and for now, it was everything to him. For now. *** 

 

I know it's the last day on earth  
We'll be together while the planet dies  
I know it's the last day on earth  
We'll never say goodbye  
\--Marilyn Manson


End file.
